


Scarlet Poppy Petal

by incorrectbatfam



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: Tim Drake was a Robin. Nothing could surprise him.
Relationships: Bart Allen & Tim Drake, Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Tim Drake & Jaime Reyes
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	Scarlet Poppy Petal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ivyxwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyxwrites/gifts).
  * Inspired by [and he takes and he takes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12020517) by [cooliohoolio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cooliohoolio/pseuds/cooliohoolio). 
  * Inspired by [Midnight Roses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16472843) by [Cheshire_Cat2244](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Cat2244/pseuds/Cheshire_Cat2244). 
  * Inspired by [Marigold Runner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17506376) by [JayMor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayMor/pseuds/JayMor). 



Tim wasn’t surprised when Bart confessed to having a crush on Jaime.

Most people would have been. Blue Beetle was the Big Bad catalyst of the apocalyptic timeline Bart hailed from. It made zero sense. Part of him wanted to laugh at the irony because only Impulse— _Kid Flash_ , Tim reminded himself—would fall in love with the person he traveled back in time to stop. 

* * *

Tim should’ve been surprised when, one random afternoon, Bart coughed up a tiny blue flower petal. But he wasn’t. Tim Drake was a Robin. Nothing could surprise him.

Still, with no clue as to what would entail, Tim dragged Bart down to the infirmary despite the speedster’s protests. _“I’m fine”_ was what Bart kept insisting. Not once did Tim believe that as he forced Bart into the exam room with Dr. Palmer.

All it took was a simple X-ray to figure out what was wrong: Bart had flowers growing in his lungs. Baby blue forget-me-nots, to be exact. Tim’s immediate reaction was to blame a magic-wielding supervillain, like Klarion. Perhaps Bart got hit with one of the wizard’s spells and that caused him to get sick.

Ray sat them down and told them, _“No, this isn’t a villain’s doing”._ He pulled out a binder from the many on his shelf. The binder was thin and it was coated in a thick layer of dust. There was only one sheet of paper and the words didn’t even fill the full page. 

From the man’s longwinded lecture filled with overcomplicated medical terms, Tim gathered that the unrequited love caused flowers (typically related to the other person) to sprout in someone’s lungs. If left alone, it would progress from coughing up petals to coughing up entire flowers, and the plants would pierce through vital organs, damning the afflicted to a slow, painful death. It was a rare, ancient sickness dubbed the Hanahaki Disease, stemming from an unknown force in the universe.

As far as Ray knew, there were only three things they could do. 

One: Bart could tell the person how he felt.

Bart shut that idea down right away, telling them it wasn’t possible because _“he has a girlfriend”_. That alone cemented Tim’s theory of who it was.

Two: Bart could get surgery to remove the flowers, but he stood a chance of losing all memories and feelings towards the person.

Tim was all for it. The procedure wasn’t complex and with Bart’s accelerated healing, recovery wouldn’t take more than a day or two. No one would notice, and it would stay between the three people in the room. 

Bart refused, saying he didn’t want to lose his memories of Jaime. Everyone knew they were as close as two people could get without being in a romantic relationship. There were the countless sleepovers and games of tag that the team had heard about, and probably more which they hadn’t. Tim pointed out that it was only a chance. Bart fired back with _“It’s a chance I’m not willing to take”_. Ray walked out of the room as a full-blown argument broke out. Tim refused to back down. He threatened to forcibly strap Bart down to the table right then and there. He threatened to tell the team, tell the League, tell Jaime. He wasn’t about to let one of his closest friends slowly commit suicide out of stupidity and stubbornness. Despite what the binder said, Tim only saw two valid choices. 

In the end, Bart had the last word.

That left them with Option Number Three: do nothing and let nature run its course.

The only thing Tim could do now was to keep Bart’s secret and be there for his friend.

* * *

Tim didn’t stop trying.

When he wasn’t on missions or doing work for the team, he was throwing himself into researching the disease. It didn’t help that there were few documented cases for Tim to reference, or that most of the sources were in Japanese. He flooded the Batcave’s computer with queries. He singlehandedly picked through every historical archive and medical record on the topic until his eyeballs seemed like they were going to bleed out from all those restless nights. Tim fell asleep thrice during debriefings, once on a mission. 

Even with a speedster’s healing, it wasn’t long until Bart fell noticeably ill. He often excused himself from group activities to sprint to the bathroom. Sometimes Tim followed. Other times, the sight of his friend throwing up blood and blue petals was too much for the Bat’s protogé to bear.

The two sought out Zatanna and Constantine. Constantine attempted a defensive spell to repel the flowers, but it was met with a resistance unlike anything the man had seen before. Zatanna recited a myriad of incantations to remove the plants. It worked… for a few minutes. The forget-me-nots bloomed once again, more abundant than ever. Tim half-carried Bart out of the room as the latter dry heaved, ignoring the apologetic looks from the two magic-users.

Bart still refused to consider the surgery or tell Jaime how he felt.

And Tim still refused to give up.

* * *

The mission was not a vital one by any definition, just a simple stakeout of some low-level Light henchmen. Tim had insisted that Bart stay at home. He was in no shape for a jog around the block, let alone don the yellow costume and phase through bullets. 

Tim wasn’t surprised when Bart showed up anyway.

Tim was in the rafters with Superboy and Blue Beetle when he felt a presence beside him, almost as if Bart had teleported there. He kept his binoculars pointed at the gang, watching as they unloaded weapons from an armored van. 

A single cough gives them away, and all of a sudden the weapons were trained on them. Being immune to the rapid hail of bullets, Kon dove headfirst into the action. Jaime followed, the alien armor being equally impenetrable. Bart moved to join them, but got exactly three steps in before he doubled over, clutching his ribs as he hacked and wheezed. Jaime flew over, pupils wide with worry, demanding to know what was going on. Tim ordered him to focus on the battle as he draped Bart’s arm over his shoulder. Something was clenched in Bart’s gloved fist, but Tim couldn’t see what it was.

It wasn’t until much, much later, when they were debriefing with the rest of the team, did he find out. 

The entire time, Tim kept a close eye on Bart. The latter sat by himself at the back of the room, not cutting in with terrible jokes or lighthearted commentary. If anyone else noticed, they chose not to say anything. Bart stood up to toss something in the trash, walking too slowly even for a normal person, let alone a speedster. 

A few steps away, Bart stumbled. He caught himself against the wall as he let out a string of deep chest coughs that _sounded_ painful. Tim couldn’t fathom how it must have felt. He delegated the nearest person—Wonder Girl—to take Bart to the medbay. Everyone saw him wipe a trickle of blood from the corner of his lips as he and Cassie left the room. But only Tim saw the entire sky blue forget-me-not—stem and leaves and all—beside the trash can.

* * *

Tim wasn’t surprised when word of Bart’s illness spread like wildfire within the couple of hours he was resting in the infirmary. Those who were outside at the time swung by with chocolates and “Get well soon” cards. Tim informed Barry, who marched into the Watchtower demanding to know what was happening and how long it had been doing on. Nobody knew who it was that was on Bart’s mind, and the speedster was dead set on keeping it that way.

Though many—including Jaime—tried to visit, only Tim was granted entry. 

* * *

Tim wasn’t surprised when Black Canary approached him, asking him how he felt about Bart’s situation. She had been doing it all day, checking in on every team member and Leaguer’s emotional well-being after the sudden development.

Tim wanted to spill everything to the woman. He wanted to tell her how Bart had been sick for a while. He wanted to tell her about the countless nights he stayed up agonizing for a cure that could satisfy all parties involved. He wanted to cry because it was _so fucking unfair_ how the speedster had to suffer for no reason; how death was on the horizon and how Tim had seen it coming ever since Bart made that _stupid, stupid_ decision and how _absolutely not ready_ he was to say goodbye to another friend.

Instead, he chose to put on a straight face and say _“I’m fine”_. 

Dinah dropped the subject.

* * *

Tim wasn’t surprised when Bart showed up to the tower less and less. Nightwing relieved him of all mission indefinitely, much to the speedster’s chagrin. When he was around, he used video games and movies to keep his mind off of things, despite complaining that they moved too slowly for his liking. 

Not that Bart was performing at his top speed, either. His prognosis only got worse, and it slowed him down. Tim would take an educated guess and say that that was more painful for Bart than the literal plants puncturing his insides.

* * *

Tim wasn’t surprised when Jaime asked him what was going on, almost as if he knew the Robin was hiding something. 

He wanted to confess everything. Admit that he’d been holding out on everyone. 

But he also didn’t want to break Bart’s trust by telling the truth.

So he said nothing at all.

* * *

Tim wasn’t surprised when Jaime broke up with his girlfriend. For starters, he accidentally messaged _“Traci, we need to talk”_ in the team group chat instead of a private one. They decided to meet up in person, at a park in El Paso, far away from prying eyes.

At the same time, Bart was hanging out in the kitchen with Gar, Kon, and Cassie. On the other end of the Watchtower, not too far from the zeta tubes, Tim observed from the security cameras as they piled the center island high with junk snacks that they were supposed to share with everyone else. He didn’t mind, so long as they cleaned up afterward. 

Cassie poured some Chicken Whizees into a bowl and handed it to Bart. For a few moments, everything was okay. Bart munched on the chips as Kon and Gar shared the latest team gossip—including Jaime’s breakup. The video was grainy at best, but Tim saw Bart’s eyes light up with the tiniest twinkle of hope.

Out of nowhere, like a slap in the face, another coughing fit ensued. This one longer, louder—worryingly so. Tim’s eyes widened as the speedster clutched his chest. Gar dropped what he was doing, transformed into a peregrine falcon, and flew towards the medbay. Bart’s eyes rolled back and he would’ve hit the floor if Kon didn’t dive forward to catch him first. The speedster’s head lolled as Kon scooped him up, taking off in the same direction as Beast Boy. 

* * *

In Tim’s mind, the sky had no right to be so clear and bright and the rest of the world had no right to be out enjoying their weekend. He held Kon and Cassie in his arms as they shook with sobs, dampening the Robin suit with their warm tears. Not too far away, Gar, in the form of a cat, was curled in on himself. Even Ray had excused himself to his office after informing the Allens and Garricks. Word hadn’t gone out to the rest of the team, but it was only a matter of time.

And Tim? 

Tim was numb. Blank. Unsurprised. Part of him hated himself for not being able to feel a thing. Part of him thought maybe it was better that he acted as the anchor.

Jaime arrived less than two minutes later, out of breath, rambling about how there was something he needed to let Bart know. Tim didn’t want to be the one to look Jaime in the eye and deliver the news, but _someone_ had to do it. 

What followed was a scream that could break even the most frozen solid heart.

* * *

Tim wasn’t surprised to find Jaime knelt by the freshly planted headstone, his body wracked with anguish more than anyone else at the service. He became the elephant in the room that people avoided. Even though they didn’t vocalize it, those who managed to connect the dots were angry at Jaime. In their own pain, they pinned the blame on him, and Tim couldn’t fault them. He would have done the same if he only had the knowledge of a casual observer.

Tim was angry, but his anger wasn’t directed at Jaime. Tim was angry at himself. He was angry about all the things he didn’t say, all the things he could’ve done differently. Tim was angry over the fact that, even after a full week, he hadn’t shed a single tear. Meanwhile, the Allens held each other closer than ever and Gar had to deliver Jaime’s speech for him because the latter broke down at the podium. He understood that everyone mourned in different ways, but the frustration and self-blame weighed down on his shoulders nonetheless. It was like those stories of suicide where the victim confided in someone beforehand and made them swear not to tell anyone, and would end up taking their secret to the grave in the end. The way he saw it, this was no different. Bart’s decision was a painstaking suicide, and Tim was guilty of being a silent complicit.

He decided that his regret or grief or whatever he was feeling could wait. 

He placed a gentle hand on Jaime’s back, a few inches above the scarab, half-expecting it to react with its usual violent tactics, and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or saddened when it didn’t. Tim offered no placating words. Jaime’s sobs would’ve drowned them out anyway. 

Tim tried to be a good friend once and failed. The least he could do was try again, starting with a handkerchief from his pocket and his silent company.

* * *

Tim hates that he isn’t surprised when Jaime coughs up a scarlet poppy petal.


End file.
